


The Gamer's Curse

by avianbrother



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Motherly Ana, always stretch before engaging in rigorous physical activity (or gaming)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8309800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avianbrother/pseuds/avianbrother
Summary: D. Va learns the hard way that repetitive stress is bad for gamers.





	

The first stab of pain came when she was holding the payload from the advancing enemy team. D.Va moved her mech on top of the cart, fingers firmly pressed on the triggers of her joysticks to send a barrage of bullets at the Reinhardt’s shield. She didn’t hear the McCree coming up beside her; too intent on shattering the barrier before her so she could get her sights on the healer. The flashbang stunned her long enough he unloaded all six shots into her mech. With a cry of frustration, she jerked the controls to her right, aiming to put up her defense matrix and shut him down. She knew she must have done something wrong when she felt it. A sharp pain jolted up her wrists and fingers, and then the sensation of pins and needles, a terrible numbness in her fingers and palms that made her pause momentarily and stare at her controls in confusion. The Reinhardt took the opportunity to smack her with his hammer, bash her mech side to side and jerking her wrists even more. Alarms blared on her HUD and her seat shot up to eject her from the failing machine.

It was only a twinge when she pulled out her pistol, hopping about to avoid enemy fire as she took potshots with her surprisingly powerful little gun. Shouts from behind her grabbed her attention and she looked to see her team returning, her stall tactic having saved just enough time. Evidently, she looked too long. The hammer knocked her down with a loud crunch, and the tingly feeling returned as she tightened the grip on her pistol, firing a couple more shots before the tank’s weapon came down on her a final time.

When she woke up in the spawn room the odd sensations in her hands were gone. So she shrugged, chalking it up as the usual battle injuries.

Twice more it happened over the week. And each time she pushed through to focus on the mission at hand. It seemed to work, because it disappeared whenever she died in battle and came back all fresh and new. The week passed and everything was okay.

Then the numbness started.

She almost didn’t notice it at first how the tingly pins and needles followed her off the battlefield. When the team gathered in the rec room for some post-fight relaxation, she was ready to kick back with a can or two of her brand name soda. Nothing like a victory drink with your name written all over it. She fumbled with the tab, swearing under her breath as her fingers refused to work, refused to feel the metal touching them even as she yanked her gloves off with her teeth. A jolt went up her wrist and she let out a gasp as the can slipped away and exploded all over the floor. She bowed her head and apologized to Soldier 76 who hovered nearby.

“Don’t worry about it,” sighed the leader. “Just clean it up and be more careful.”

She nodded. “I’m on it.” The sensation never faded when she grabbed the mop and soaked up the mess. It never faded when she finally tried to unwind with the team in front of the television and during dinner. It never faded when she curled up in her plush pink bed for the night, and it seemed to get worse as her wrist and fingers throbbed through the evening until morning light. But D.Va was nothing if not tenacious.

“Alright, D.Va,” she said to herself as she flexed her fingers and pumped her fists, ready to start the day. “You can handle a little booboo like this. You’ve fought giant robots, you can handle anything. No battles, just a couple streams. Easy peasy. Do it for the fans!”

The fans. Missions for Overwatch were an important duty, but her fans were what motivated her. They understood that hidden by her cutesy, powderpuff exterior was a dedicated badass. Every stream she did clocked in millions of subscribers and watchers that flooded her with words of adoration. She had to admit, it fluffed her ego quite a bit. But they were _her_ fans. And any fan of hers deserved the best. So she cracked her knuckles and shook out her wrists as her massive wall-sized computer screens lit up. Already, people were waiting in the stream, staring at the loading screen in anticipation. The game for the first stream was a simple one, an oldie that involved piloting a ship to shoot down invading aliens and asteroids. She settled in her special fluffy beanbag chair with a bag of chips and her controller.

The chat blew up the second she entered, watchers proclaiming their excitement and admiration. D.Va slipped on her headset and the voice she used for her fans. “Hellooo everyone, hope you’re ready for some old fashioned alien butt kicking. Today I’ll be playing Xeno Swarm. A great big thank you to all my generous donators for helping support these streams! I won’t keep you waiting anymore so let’s go!”

Starting levels with these games were always easy. She breezed through them, knocking out every single target that scrolled down her screen and dodging their attacks and the flying rocks. “Remember watchers, the hitbox is smaller than your player model so you can avoid plenty of hits if you try.”

For a dozen levels the numbness was only a faint irritant in her mind, every fiber of her being focused on the game and chatting with fans. Everything was going good. The number in the bottom of her screen clocked 5 million viewers.

It came without warning, the pain jabbing deep into her nerves and pulling a cry from her. She cringed for a moment, quickly turning her attention back to the game. Narrowly avoiding a stream of lasers from the evil aliens, she glanced at the chat box, several messages of concern popping up. She took a deep breath to push past the pain and the numbness in her fingers. “Don’t worry, you guys,” she assured, sounding as confident as she could. “I got this!”

Her movements were slower as she progressed. It felt as though the controller wasn’t there in her grasp. She held on with white knuckle fury, the intense pressure in her palms amplifying the pain. She had to keep going. For the fans, she reminded herself. Do it for the fans. This is nothing.

Time blurred the levels together, the difficulty ramping up as she moved ahead. Aside from the ache, the stream was going smoothly, the score ticking upwards and past her previous best. When the boss level flashed, she tensed, leaning forward in her seat and biting her lip in concentration.

He was one of _those_ bosses. Multiple forms, attacks that spammed the whole area and dealt increased damage. The giant planet-eating xeno was no match for her as she wove through his attacks, spamming her guns every time he let up for even a second. He chipped away at her health, consuming the bonus lives she’d gathered up. She tilted her body and the controller with the movements of her ship as if it would make her bank harder, move faster.

The final form of the boss was huge, taking up most of the field while tentacles swiped at her ship and blocked her from multiple directions. Her brow furrowed as she ducked and bobbed, twisting her arms to avoid his moves. Her ship, so much like her dinky little pistol, chewed through the evil alien’s health. D.Va beamed once she whittled him down to where she could take him out in a couple more hits. “Looks like we’re gonna win this!”

She twisted just right and her wrists punished her for it. She didn’t cry, refused to cry when the controller clattered to the floor and she pulled her arms close to her chest, wincing at the sensation firing up her nerves. Her little ship suffered the blows the boss unleashed while she scrambled for the controls, shaking as she recovered and dodged the last of the attacks to break through defenses and defeat the boss.

Again the chat bombarded her with praise, and she realized that she had set a new high score, possibly even broke a world record. She smiled weakly. “That’s a new high score! Thanks for watching. Stick around ‘cause I’ll be back with more gaming for you!”

She signed off, falling back against her beanbag with a sigh. It hurt. It really fucking hurt. There was time until she had to hop on for another stream. Maybe Mercy could zap her with her staff thingy and fix her wrists. She hauled herself up, tossing her headset on the bed as she padded towards the med bay. The base was quiet, a normal occurrence when there were no missions lined up. She could smell the med bay before she could see it, the whole hallway scrubbed with disinfectant as per Mercy’s strict guidelines. She rapped a knuckle on the door. No answer. She poked her head inside. “Dr. Zeigler?”

The examination room was empty. D.Va turned to leave when a voice came from the adjoining office. “Hello? Do you need something?” Ana stepped out of the office, holding a delicate china cup. “Hana, what brings you here?” She gestured for D.Va to follow her in.

The office was decorated with anatomy charts and a small kitchenette was nestled in one corner of the room. It was as clean as you’d expect it to be with Mercy around. D.Va sat on the exam table, her short legs dangling over the edge. Ana looked at her expectantly and D.Va shrugged, suddenly self-conscious of the whole ordeal. “It’s nothing major, Ms. Amari. I was hoping Dr. Zeigler could just heal my wrist.”

Ana set her cup on the counter and gently grabbed D.Va by the wrist, sliding off the gloves and pulling up the sleeves of her suit. Ana traced the tendons leading into the girl’s hands. Without warning, she pressed hard on the meaty area at the bottom of her palm. D.Va let out a strangled squeak, tears welling in her eyes. Ana gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, dear,” she spoke in a soft, warm tone. She did the same with D.Va’s left hand, though all the girl did was whimper. Ana nodded, tracing the swollen bundle of nerves. “Have you been experiencing numbness? Any prickly sensations?” D.Va nodded with a sniffle. Ana hummed and went back into the office. From the doorway, D.Va watched her turn on an electric kettle then rifle through the fridge for an ice pack.

With a tender touch, Ana wrapped an ice pack around the swollen area on each hand, tying a clean rag to hold it in place. The cold eased the pain, and D.Va slowly relaxed, unaware of how tense she’d been. Ana pulled up a chair, grabbing a tablet from the counter and typing something D.Va couldn’t see. “What’s wrong?”

Ana looked up. Her jacket was in the other room, and for once D.Va could see the woman’s face without the shroud of her hood. Some wrinkles carved their way across her skin, particularly where the eyepatch was, but she was calm and had a steady gaze.

“You have carpal tunnel,” Ana said bluntly. “I thought it might be tendonitis but the swelling is minimal and the lack of feeling looks like your main symptom.”

“Carpal tunnel?” D.Va whined. “But it went away when I spawned in.”

“Our healing systems can repair most injuries during missions but,” Ana emphasized with a pointed look, “something chronic like this can only be suppressed so long before it comes back. Playing all those video games and controlling your mech would have caused plenty of stress, young one.”

“So what do I do now?” Ana sighed, gazing at the floor pensively.

“Rest would help. We have a brace you can wear and I’ll see if Angela can give you some anti-inflammatories for the swelling. Ice it a couple times each hour. Otherwise, try to relax.”

I can’t rest, D.Va thought. I have another stream. Then there’s the movie premier. They’ll want me to sign autographs and 76 said there’d be another mission coming up too. Will I be able to fight? What will everyone say?

She didn’t realize she was crying until Ana wiped away her tears with a gloved hand. She sniffled, weakly batting the woman away as she swiped a hand across her cheek. Ana lifted the girl’s chin, her kind smile laced with concern. “Hana, it will get better, I assure you.”

D.Va shook her head. “It’s not that. W-what about my fans? The team? All these people are counting on me. I don’t wanna disappoint them.” Ana kissed her temple and stroked the hair from her face.

“If these fans of yours truly admire you then they’ll want you to take care of yourself first. It’s no use straining over it.” D.Va sobbed but nodded in understanding. “You push yourself without rest and you’ll only make it worse. Give it time to heal and the road to recovery will be short.”

The shrill whistle of the kettle cut the air. Ana let go and slipped into the office, pouring liquid into a spare cup. Steam and a wondrous aroma wafted off. Ana helped D.Va remove the ice packs and handed her the cup.

She recognized the smell of green tea, closing her eyes and blowing on it though it wasn’t very hot. She took a sip, tasting ginger and hints of lemon that warmed her. “It’s good.”

Ana smiled and grabbed her own cup. “I may not have the same medical expertise as Angela, but I know a thing or two. It’s an old remedy I used when Fareeha would get sore from training. It helps with swelling in your joints.” D.Va drank the cup dry, setting it neatly on the counter. She placed one of the ice packs on her left wrist, accepting her situation for what it was.

Ana took the cups and put them in the sink to be washed. She searched the cabinets, pulling down bandages, splints, q-tips, brows furrowed when she couldn’t find what she was looking for. The growing pile made D.Va squirm.

“Ah! Here they are.” Ana pulled out a pair of mesh tubes. D.Va tilted her to the side in confusion. She watched as Ana slid them onto her slender wrists like a pair of fingerless gloves, the mesh conforming to her shape. Bending her wrists was hard but not painful, the flexible mesh cradling her extremity with care, allowing just enough movement without letting her overextend or exert herself. The pain eased, and hope shined in D.Va's eyes. This would do just fine. “Now I won’t forbid you from playing, but please try to rest.”

D.Va nodded, jumping from the table and bolting for the door. “I promise I will!” She stopped in the hall and looked back, ducking in to snatch Ana up for a hug and give her a peck on the cheek. “Thank you, Halmoni!” With that, she was gone. Ana chuckled, shaking her head. She cleaned up the ice packs and the tea cups. It was quiet. She didn’t mind. She got another potful going on the kettle and sat back in her worn yet comfy chair.

“Kids these days… so excitable.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my brother's misadventures in carpal tunnel and the fact D.Va's mech does not have ergonomic controls.


End file.
